Page 97 of The King's Man 1

“Yes, from something solid. You know, like land?”

He doesn’t respond. The wind propels us higher.

A pale cloud floats in our path and Quin draws it towards him with his magic. “Sit.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I mutter.

His mouth twitches, just barely. Not quite a smile.

My stomach hops... because with the almost-smile is a gleam in his eyes. Like he really, really wants me sitting on his cloud.

Quin perches on the apparently—impossibly—firm cloud.

I’m still balancing on air currents, half bent, still tightly gripping his sleeve.

He pats beside him with a beckoning, teasing brow.

I shake my head. “I don’t trust you enough to sit on a glorified puddle!” I glance down and shut my eyes at the very long fall below. “Please?”

I only whisper it; I barely let it seep from my mouth. Wind pockets me and slowly, carefully sinks me downwards. I ping my eyes open. The cloud is floating off above us, and Quin is descending with me toward tiered rooftops.

I drop to the frosted tiles with a relieved sigh. Quin deposits himself neatly onto the ridgeline, garnet-red cloak fluttering under him like a blanket. I curl mine under me and around my bent knees. “Thank you,” I murmur, again just barely.

He looks at me and his gaze sweeps down. “Your foot,” he says.

I blink at him.

He gestures to my shoddy boot. I continue gaping until he reaches for it himself, setting it upon his knee. I suck in a sharp breath at the tenderness in my ankle and his fingers lighten around it, carefully tugging off the leather.

“Instruct me,” he demands.

“The alcohol will wear off soon, I can do it then.”

He gives me a sharp look and I stare at him, socked foot still perched on his warm lap. Under my guidance, he funnels healing magic into my ankle, and the steady warm flow eases my ache.

I glance at his leg. Surely I’m pressing against his pain. Yet when I try to shift, he holds me in place, his focus entirely on me.

As soon as his magic fades, I swing my foot off him and shove it into my boot. “You’re a quick study,” I tease. “You could have a career in healing.”

“Good to know I have options.”

We shift our gaze to the view at the same time.

Heavens.

The entire snowy capital can be seen from up here; thousands of street lanterns, and lovelights—blossoming out of couples along the canals. Every light shines uniquely, some a bright flash, others a slow steady burn. One couple’s burst like a fountain, sparkling down on them.

“To love and be loved like that...” I murmur.

Quin’s profile softens in the silvery moonlight. His lashes are thick and long, his eyes reflecting the dance of lights below. He looks almost wistful, beholding the capital like this. Like these lovelights are an unattainable joy.

“So many. Maybe even you will have that someday.”

He slides his gazes to mine sideways with the shake of his head. “You could at least sound like you meant that.” He returns his focus to the canal below, and after a moment, clears his throat. “Why were you on your own? Shouldn’t you be spending this night with someone?”

“They left.”

“Did he?”

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